LIBRARY OF COr^GRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




A ROMANCE IN RHYME, 



BY 







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NEW YORK: 

John C. Gkaff, Book and Job Printer, 2291 Third Avenue. 

1878. 



ESSIE 



PRELUDE. 

" It's a horrid bore,'' (juoth my ladj, "l)nt I see nothing else to do, 

Thej were very kind to I/inrence," and here nij hidj drew 

Her Point d'Alencon niouclioir, and wiped a tear oi' so 

From lier rnddy cheek, (a ti'ibnte to her boy, dead long ago.) 

" Well, do as yon like, my hidy," says my lord from l)ehind the " News," 

" Invitations 1 don't interfere with, so, my hidy, do jnst as yon choose." 

TIIEINV^ITATION. 
My dear Miss Brnee : — We ai-e nearing yonr annual holiday ; 
I presume it is rather stnpid when yonr seiioolmates are a\va_y ! 
Do yon think a trip to England yonr pleasure would enchance ? 
Jf, yes, make your prejiarations for leaving Id helle France. 
I have in my home no daughters to help make time pass away, 
(Only Sir Charles and myself, dear,) so 1 fear 'twill be far from gay ; 
And McPherson (mj^ son) is making, if I rightly understand. 
An arrangement with a stag party to summer in Switzerland. 
Another thing : we have decided not to open our house in town, 
So I fear the attractions I offer are not of a kind to crown 
A young girl's cup with pleasure. Still, dear, if you'd like to come, 
And see the old house that Laurence told you of as ' his home,' 
And see the mother that loved him, (and misses him day by day) 
Ton will find a kindly^ welcome, 

From yonr friend, • 

Mary Langley. 



THE ACCEPTANCE. 

My dear Lady Langley : — I'm sitting in the liorridest chatter and din 

Of at least five nations of school girls ; so it's rather hard to begin, 

To tell you how glad I am to leave this la helle France. 

If I'd been invited to Hades, last summer, Vd.jicm2)ed at the chance. 

I had to show my guardian your letter that asked me to come ; 

He's an American fossil, that used to live near us at home ; 

But, from being for years in Paris, he's grown to adopt their way 

Of guarding wards and daughters, which, really, I must say. 

To a girl of republican spirit, is just a regular cross ; 

For, (to use a coined word of my country) each girl is about her own "boss" 

In the land of the " Star-Spangled Banner," in that dear land of the free. 

So I just detest Mr. Jenkins, and his JFrenching it over me. 

So, when old guardy Jenkins, in one eye-glass, tried to look wise, 

And began a long string of questions, I felt my very hair rise, 

And I said, " Look here, Mr. Jenkins, I'll just have you to know. 

If you sknig and talk till you're hlach in the face, all the very same, 1 

shall go ! " 
He gave in at once, (per usual,) he bade Madam to prepare 
Mademoiselle for a journey to England — Mademoiselle would summer 

there." 
I am glad that you have no daughters — girls always end with a row 
Over some soft thing or other, one can't tell why, or how ; 
Then I'm glad your son's in the mountains, for I'm only just sixteen. 
And men have a fashion of thinking a girl of that age rather "green ;" 
As for being out of a city, I've precious too much of that here ; 
And your proper London acquaintances would style me horrid and queer ; 
And then, my dear Lady Langley, it will be so sweet to know 
I am treading the very pathways that Laurence trod long ago. 
1 was very fond of your Laurence, I liked his odd foreign way, 
And used to sit beside his bed in preference to play ; 
For you know, my Lady Langley, that Laurence was poor and ill ; 



And even now, in looking back, m_y e_yes begin to fill. 

From tlie first lie seemed fond of Essie, — Essie, my lady, is me, 

1 don't know how it happened — I was wild as I could be. 

Mamma died when I was a baby, and so, (thongli Papa was refined) 

I grew np willfnl and slangey, and never was known to mind. 

The doctor said 'twas consumption ; that Laurence would have to go 

Away from us, up to heaven, before the winter's snow. 

Laurence was not sad at the summons, and one day, when I was near, 

(I always was near him some way,) he called to me, " Essie ! dear, 

Are your tasks for the day all finished ?" " Yes," I said, " and what then ?" 

" Then come and sit down beside me, and bring your paper and pen — 

I want you to write me a letter, and, Essie, I want it to be 

(Until I die), little Essie, a secret between you and me, 

'Twill not be long, wee lassie, (and 1 shall be glad to die.)' 

So, I sobbed him out a promise, but he bade me, " not to cry." 

"Well, I wrote the letter, my lady, how you read it, leant thiidc, I'm sure. 

For I had no idea of spelling, punctuation I could not endure ; 

But I wrote his words, my lady, and I'm sorry now to state, 

That I just absolutely abhorred you with the hatingest kind of hate. 

What if poor dear Laurence had been willful and wild — 

It seemed so very unnatural that a mother should see her child 

Turned in shame from the roof tree, w^ith a father's curse on his head ; 

Your husband seemed a monster — but, Laurence always said, 

"Essie, I richly deserved it, I was willfnl and bad, 

I know my wayward spirit has m ide my lady's life sad." 

You know how he asked " forgiveness — that, "kind memories you would 

keep. 
Of your youngest boy — your Laurence — who soon would be asleep;" 
So glad to rest in quiet, after life's short day, 
But, what's the use of recalling when I only want to say. 
That I'm glad you forgave him, — glad that Laurence rests 
With theturf of old England above him — the land he loved the best. 
And as to our kindness, my lady, we Americans lia\'e a way 



6 

Of being a generous nation, of being apt to say 

To a stranger that asks our protection, a " yea" and not a "nay." 

But enough of all this, I'll be with you ere the close of the week ; 

And, my lady, I really intend to be docile, and gentle, and meek. 

I hope your son's in the mountains, or, if not, that we shall cry truce. 

Believe me, my lady, I'm ever. 

Your little friend, 

Essie C. Bruce. 

ESSIE'S FIRST HOME LETTER. 
Dear Cuickek : — 
I've crossed the Cliamiel and reached the old English shore, 
(Every time I get on the ocean I'm sicker than ever before(?) 
Old Jenkins was true to the last, and stuck to me like a burr. 
And the lectures and cautions he gave, will not in the least deter 
Me from doing just as I like. Can a leopard change his spots? 
'' No, he cant." Well, do you suppose his talking would change me lots? 
I said why shouldn't " they stare," I'm I'ei y pretty, grandpa. 
You can't deny that, for they say, "I am very like poor mamma," 
And the_y say i\\i\i she was a belle in her youth, and you ware her beau, 
Till Dr. Bruce came and cut you out, so you can't be surprised, } ou knuw ; 
But in my heart, dear Charley, I felt a little bit queer, 
A flutter of expectation, and a tiny bit of fear; 
At the steamer's dock, there met me the steward, a Mr. Ray, 
He had come that moi'ning from Leighcroft — all the way; 
And his manner was so respectful that I began to see, 
That ii gunrdy was provoking, he knew what ought to be. 
So, I vowed I'd be calm as a duchess, and that, nil the way by train, 
I would sit, like a small stone image, and g ize out on the pelting rain. 
But my legs got awfully cramped — (I had skipped my dull novel through,) 
And so I looked about me, as the next best thing to do; 
Mr. Ray was respectfully na|)]nng, screened by the moi-ning " Times;" 
His snores were so funny and mutHod, they made me think of the chimes 



7 

On our village cliurcli at home. Chick, I don't have need to tell 

What I did, for you know I giggled — girls always do and — well, 

I could not very well help it, my eyes woidd take a look 

Into the other compartment, and there sat a man with a book. 

J thought at first he was reading, but now I know that he, 

With very much more interest, was calndy watching me. 

" Ce nionde est plein defousT I've heard our madam say, 

I wonder if that fellow, Chick, expected me to pay 

llim back the laughing glances, such as beseemed inclined to bestow ? 

Chick, it could have been a flii'tation, (it was hard to let it go.) 

(But I did.) I gave back one vacant stare, then turned my head away, 

And Tvejptit turned (though my poor neck ached,) till I heard the porter 

say, 
" All off for Leighcroft Manor!" I saw, through the door, disappear 
The heels of my woukl-be flirtation, ([ wonder if he lives here.) 
My dear, the carriage that met me was just a family ark, 
And I really believe the servants expected a real, live, stark. 
Staring, wild American Indian, witli feathers, war-whoop and all ; 
For, at sight of me, their looks darkened, I iixtsnH the tJcing at all ; 
A Miss in a Paris bonnet, en panier, en high-heeled shoes. 
Instead of a sooty savage in war paint or with a pappoose. 
But servants ai-e well trained in England, so they opened the old ark door ; 
Oh, Chick, such snifty cushions I never lounged in before ! 
Ra}^ did not get in, he sim])ly closed the door and stalked away. 
And hastened to tell (I doubt not) the buxom Mistress Ray, 
And a host of red cheeked daughters "that the importation had come ;" 
To call me a little "pipe stem," and "thank heaven the girls at home 
Had not putty faces and Chinese feet," and fifty other compliments. 
That I won't take time to repeat. On we dashed through the twilight — • 
The vilhige faded away — and there dawned upon my sight 
The Manor; it stood upon a liillside, with terraced lawns before. 
And, like some grand, old picture, before the open door, 
Stood a gentle-looking lady, clad in soft robes of gray ; 



One glance in her face, and fears, Chick, tied on swift wings away. 

By her side M^as a portly gentleman, (he and gnardy would make a pair) 

Very fat and comfortable-looking, without any stock of hair; 

He hurried as fast as he could, and held out one puffy hand, 

"While he said, in a winey whisper : ''Welcome, dear, to England." 

And then my lady caught me, and held me against her breast ; 

I lool^ed at her through a mist. Chick, and felt more perfect rest 

Than I have for two long years, since father's last kiss lay 

On my trembling, trembling lips, on the day I sailed away. 

It wasn't a bit like the stories, (why will novelists lie ?) 

My lady was just a woman, and she let mo have my cry 

Out on her motherly bosom. Tlien she kissed me and said : 

"There, there, you are tired, dearie; cease crying, you'll make your 

eyes red." 
"Well, we had tea together, my lord, my lady and I, 
"With no one but ourselves and a white-haired butler by. 
Then w^e sat and talked of Laurence, till the great clock struck nine, 
"When my lady said : " Are you ready for bed?" Be sure, dear, I did not 

decline. 
Pear Charley, I'm awfully sleepy, but my room is very svjell i 
I wish it was not, I tell you, for its rather frightful to dwell 
"With four huge, life sized pictures of some long gone ladies gay ; 
I can fancy them stepping down from their frames when the lights are 

taken away. 
The bed is plump, and fat, and high, but yet I haven't a doubt 
Every one of those four, up _yonder, had on it their "laying out." 
But, heavens! I'm getting the shivers, and I'll frighten myself to death, 
So, Chicken, I'm yours forever. 

Your sister, 

Essie, saith. 



MTIIEKSON TO HIS FRIEND. 

Deak Philip : 

Tlie fates were againtt me, I would not be able to say 

What I said, and what I did not, when I knocked into onr man, Eay, 

And learned 'twas his charming mission to bring out la jictite squaiu^ 

To summer at Leigheroft Manor. By thunder, Phil, what a bore ! 

1 am sure my lord will eudure tortures far worse than his gout ; 

/ thank heaven for ^Switzerland's journe_y, so that /am couuted out. 

Put, as I said, luck was against me, for, 1 would have you know, 

I had telegraphed my valet to send on word to Legrow, 

That I'd take the noon train for Leighcruft, and arrange with him then 

and there, 
For that sorrel colt — you know her ? Sired by " Young Golden Hair." 
No time to lose, for Bronson Avas hard upon my track, 
So I was booked and done for, and could not well turn back. 
So, I cornered Pay, and told him about my little fix. 
Bade hiui not to heed me, nor let the little minx 
Know I was son of my mother — no recognition to make ; 
But, by George! we got seats in the very same car; I donned my wide- 
awake, 
And when the traiu got in motion, I took my novel out ; 
And, Phil, by all the powers ! what do you think 'twas about ? 
I had bought the thing in London, at least I went to the stand 
Near the depot, and took the book that lay nearest to my hand — 
A little American story ; the subject was very rum — ■ 
" Helen's Babies" I think the title— I tell you, 1 laughed some 
Over the random purchase ; but as 'twas all I had to read, 
I found, in the little urchins, friends in a time of need. 
1 wanted to get a look at my lady mother's guest, 
But she sat with her face to the window, till I thought I should not be 

blest. 
When Ray dropped into a slumber, and sang such a tuneful lay. 
That the girl's face, from the window, turned itself my way. 



10 

I don't think it's fair in a fellow to judge of looks on a train, 

Besides, la petite Sauvage had been ont in a pouring rain. 

So all I can tell yon, is, that her eyes are large and gray, 

That her hair is brown, and was tumbled down in a pretty sort of way ; 

But upon this atom of girlhood, I did not waste much time, 

1 was thinking of you, old fellow, and that soon we'd Ijegin to climb 

In earnest the grand Swiss mountains ; but, Phil, I pause to say. 

Can't you get otf from town, if only for a day ? 

I want you to see my purchase, I came here incognito, 

But my lady has found me out, and so, from the Inn, I go 

To my old quarters at home. So, come up, and bring som9 of the boys. 

Sir Guinn, it you like, or Tom, or our jolly friend, Joe LeRoys, 

And we'll talk our plans all over, and I will veniiire to say. 

There will be nothing stupid during your little stay. 

Good night, good night, old fellow, now, is it not deuced rpieer. 

That, after all my planning I find myself just here? 

LEioncROFT Manor. 
I am more than sorry, my dear, old Phil, 
To hear by post that you were ill ; 
To know that you cannot, my dear, old boy. 
Take part with me in the wonderful joy 

That Thursday evening holds in store. And I regret the forced delay. 
That still keeps back the wished-for day 
Of our Switzerland journey. So, haste and get well, 
And, in the meantime, I've much to tell — 
The fellows came up (five good and strong, 
Guinn, Harry, LePoys, Tom and Will Long.) 
They, thank fortune, were only a day behind me here. 
So, you see, old fellow, I'd little to fear 

From mv lady mother's guest, who does not in the least advance 
On acquaintance, (she's a savage,) and why they sent her to France, 
Is one of the unsolved problems. I don't see how Ma has the face, 



11 

To iiitrodnce la helle Saiivage\ I tliiiik she's a perfect disgrace ; 

Her looks are all well enoiigli, complexion, eyes and liair, 

In fact I think she wonld be called by most men deljonnaire. 

But manners, Phil, she has none — I asked her, in casual way, 

(To open' the conversation,) how she came the other day ? 

I thought, perhaps, the pink cheeks might a trifle pinker grow, 

At the seemingly innocent question; but, I would have you know. 

She lifted her large eyes at me, and said, in a pert, brisk way, 

" /, oh, you do not know, do you? 1 came by hallooii from Calais !" 

My lord led her out to dinner, she did not seem honored at all ; 

She talked with the ease of a duchess, informed us "of hei* skill at ball," 

Said she "climbed trees, rode bare-back, played 'shinney,' " (great heavens ! 

what's that ?) 
And another heathenish game, called "cradle the cat." 
The butler v\^as highly amused, and so — strange to say — was my lord, 
And my lady looked slightly perplexed, and / was horridly bored. 
After dinner, we walked in the garden, I plucked a rose trom a tree, 
And presented it to la Sauvage, saying, " Ouhlier je ne puis /" 
And what do you think came for answer — " I would not, if I were you, 
But a man that makes a fool of himself is nothing uncommon or new." 
And with this the gentle Savage took my proffered rose of peace. 
While from her sweet society 1 quickly sought release. 
The next day the boys came down, each I formally introduce, 
To each, in return, a dainty nod vonchsafes Miss Essie Bruce. 
I think she "takes" with the boys, she's inclined to derouter 
A fellow into thinking, late nights, of gray eyes and brown haii-. 
So Guinn has told me, Phil, and he's known as a hardened sinner, 
Tom is growing fond of croquet, and LeRoys forgets his dinner, 
In order to drink in the music of Miss Essie Bruce's voice. 
(Miss Essie talks too much for me, but every man to his choice.) 
She has won my mother completely ; last night I happened to be 
Out in the swinging hammock, the ladies were waiting for tea. 
And I saw la helle Sauvage climb into my mother's chair, 



And la.y her head on her bosom, (my lady's lips touched her hair,) 
And I heard her voice speak softly, saw her sweet eyes gentle grow. 
Saw her red lips part in loving words, (in words 1 could not know.) 
But the words brought tears to my lady's eyes, and brought kisses upon 

the face 
Of the tiny creature in her arms ; {for the time Pd have taken her place.) 
Then, Sir Charles calls her " his beauty," says, "when she goes away, 
She will take all the sunshine with her for many a long, long day !" 
The servants are her sworn allies, they laugh at her heatlieiiish prank, 
And still, (/can't understand it,) if Miss Essie held the rank. 
In right, of a titled princess, they should show no more deference true, 
Than she seems to call forth from them, whenever her bidding tliey do. 
But, I'm off for a constitutional, and this evening, bef»re I retire, 
For your benefit my invalid, I'll tune my feeble iyre; 
No pun intended, old fi'llovv, (you know I'm renowned for the truth,) 
So, till evening, now I leave thee, Oh, much loved friend of my youth. 

ESSIE TO HER PAPA. 

My dear, dear, papa : — If you only could be 

On this other side of the o^reat, wide sea, 

That divides, with its waters of greenish blue. 

Your own little Essie, your daughter, from you, 

I know we'd be happy, and merry and gay ; 

For, dear, dear, papa, 'tis a glorious day — - 

A morning in June — not a cloud to be seen, 

Tlie garden is fragrant, the meadows are green, 

And the river runs yonder — a silvery thread — 

And a choir of robins, just over my head, 

Are singing like "fury and all possessed" 

To me, (and three birds in a horse hair nest.) 

K[\,\iMatanie could be allowed from her grave to rise, 

I think she'd change her Will, when with opened eyes. 

She saw how m?(^(?A of change had come o'er the orphan child ; 



13 

"What heaps of savoir-vivi'e, had mademoiselle Essie, the wild ! 

" Speak well of the dead" they say, I wish I could now, I)ut I can't, 

For I always did from the very first, detest my old maid aunt ; 

She called me "Esther" (through her nose,) before I hardly knew 

The very difference between my little glove and shoe ; 

She always kept me "spick and span," she read mebooks on "infant sin," 

And once she whipped me when I yawned and said, "Oh, Aunty, that's 

too thin." 
She punished me with Bible texts, and with the sweet commandments, 

ten ; 
And, oh, in church, if I forgot one single, small " Amen," 
A loord in Litany or Creed, it was a sin of deepest dye ; 
And if I did not mend my way, I'd rue it by and by. 
She would not hear of fairy tales — -Moore and Edgeworth ; goodey good, 
Formed my stock of literature — were my only mental food. 
I'm glad our goat ate Hannah np, and I'll confess right now, 
That Miss Edgeworth fell a victim to Bess — our brindle cow. 
Well, she asked me one fine evening, (I had been unusually bad) 
" Esther, I'd like to know what you would do if you had 
No kind aunty to love you, and to care for you day by day?" 
I said, "I'll tell you aunty, I'd just be 'gallus' and gay, 
I'd play with Chick and the fellows, shinney, and marbles and ball — 
I'd go without shoes and stockings, I'd hang up my French doll 
On the topmost limb of the highest tree, and then I'd tell some lies. 
And then (to know what it felt like) I'd set up a shop of mud pies." 
That night she took a horrible cold, next morning she made her will. 
If I'd cheesed it about the lies (and the pies) she might be living still. 
She left me all that she possessed — jewels, bonds and land, 
" To me^ and mine forever," she said. But this was her dying command, 
" That if her niece should live, sweet fourteen to be. 
She must make a journey across the great, wide sea, 
And enter a school in Fi-ance ; there must Essie remain 
Three long and studious years, ere she journey home again." 



14 

And tlien she gave us old guardy — " I do here provide 

As guardian, Mr. Jenkins, a friend both true and tried." 

Papa, two _ycars of the three, have actually flown away, 

And there reinainelh, father mine, but one little year to stay ; 

I left ray native land, papa, a very rough, rough stone, 

And I greatly fear, papa, Essie has not polished grown ; 

Still, I jabber French like a native, and I play six music books through. 

And I know how to walk, to dance and to talk, and there's the list Yoila 

tout / 
I'm afraid I have not forgotten old ways, which you will regret to see, 
When 1 tell you I'm writing in pencil because I am np in a tree ; 
Yes, not a I'Mle tree either, but for comfort I'll hasten to say, 
No one but the gardener knows it, the household are all away : 
My lady has gone with the vicar's wife, to visit the village school ; 
Sir Charles has gone to a neighboring squire's and the great big, stupid 

mule — 
They call their son McPherson, (in a suit I'd blush to wear,) 
Is off with five boon companions, pretending to hunt for hare ; 
I think I heard them say for that., but it may have been only air\ 
But whatever it is, thank goodness he's gone, and where, I don't know 

or care. 
Tell Chick my romance \n -as, squelched., that the wonderful vis a vis, 
Was.no other than Mr. Mac Langley ; how dared he fli)-t with me : 
And then when we were presented, he asked me which way I came 

down ? 
I said, " b}^ balloon Mr. Langley," Pa, you should have seen him frown ; 
But McPherson is rather good-looking — he has dark-brown eyes and 

hair. 
But I know he likes fast horses, and I'm sure I heard him swear, 
Under his breath, at his valet, for forgetting some trifling thing; 
He's off for Switzerland, next week, I'll be glad when he takes wing ; 
But, before he goes, my lady is going to enhance 
My misery, by giving me a little informal dance 



15 

On Tlinrsday niglit, on tlie lawn ; "infonaal!" listen my dear, 

I want jou to know the things they term informal here : 

The invitations are written on crested paper, and say, 

"It is Lady Langley's desire to make a pleasant day 

For her young friend. Miss Essie Bruce ; will the Misses Blank prepare 

To meet Miss Bruce on Tliursday next, (if said Thursday shall prove 

fair) ?" 
The guests are bidden to croquet, the guests are asked to dine 
With Miss Bruce and Lady Langley, if the weather shall prove fine. 
Then n\y Lady Langley knows so well, young people do not scorn 
A -dance at any season ; that she shall have on the lawn 
A tent raised. There'll be music, and so the Misses Blank may 
Prepare to wander through the dance and while the evening hours away. 
I think I shall wear pink silk, (I had it made on the sly — 
Gave the order to Worth on a paper slip, when guardy turned his eye.) 
It's snifty^ I tell you, pa. Princess, train three yards long. 
Perhaps 'twill be rather grand jxtrure, for I'm bound to get things wrong ; 
I suppose the guests will come, each clad in a book muslin dress. 
And behind their fans, the dowagers will call my style ''excess;" 
AVe will see — I'll write and tell you. Oh, heavens! what do I see ? 
McPherson and his friends, papa, are coming toward this tree. 

M'PIIERSON'S LETTER CONTINUED. 

The evening "is gone, and the night has been reigning for several hours. 
Everything that I know ofs asleep ; from the garden, the fragrance of 

flowers 
Is stealing in upon me ; 'tis a fitting time to tell. 
The rather strange adventure that to all of us befell. 
Roys began it, I think, at all events, la helle 
Was the theme we dwelt on. (I shndder as I tell,) 
Not for what was said so much as what might have been ; 
Phil, 'twill be a lesson, not soon forgot by us men. 
At all events, Roys began it, said, " take it all in all. 



16 

One would not call Essie '■ ugly^ for his part, he liked small 

Women, like la hells Sauvage ; then, as to her ways, ah, well, 

She was very, very slangey ! but, had she not to dwell. 

All her young lite, in a country of blasted Plebeian breed ? 

For his part, he tiiought Essie did very well indeed." 

Tom said, " the little foot that peeped out in croquet, 

Was really enough in itself, to charm one's heart away." 

Guinn said, "her eyes had a trick of looking one through and throngh, 

Till a fellow caught himself blushing, as boys are apt to do." 

But, we all agreed her a hoyden, regretted that lips so red, 

Should so often give expression to words left better unsaid. 

We agreed that our English ladies, would vote her horrid and loud ; 

And then, we asked each other, collectively in a crowd. 

Would we be willing to offer ourselves to her for life, 

AVould any of us fellows be willing to take as wife 

The object of our converse? '"Twould be being cut off with a shilling," 

Said Guinn, " I could not ask her, even if I were willing." 

Tom said they would be aghast, his relations, they'd raise a cry. 

That made liim say, at the thought, "he would not venture to try." 

Roys looked glum, he said, " an officer of our day. 

And particularly a junior, had plenty to do with his pay." 

Well, we all said something, and probably would have said more. 

Had not something worse than loudest cannon's roar. 

Reached our startled ears. A voice (not " gentle, soft and low," 

That excellent thing in woman the poet praises, you know.) 

Sounded high above our heads, a voice borne by the breeze ; 

A voice high up above us from among the garden trees. 

Saying, " 'listeners never hear any good,' your comments have done no 

harm, 
For in all your land, not a single man, possesses a tingle charm 
For ' la helle Sauvage P She hates John Bull, 
Hates his arrogant, lordly way, and so, accepts this ratlier full 
Dose of disapprobation. Does Sir Guinn fancy his poky way 



IT 

Of lifting- bis eyes, — a consnmmate art, — or tliat polislied flattery. 

Can win the heart of a girl American born — of a girl who was reared to 

believe 
That true manhood knows not how to deceive? 
So, take the advice of Essie, marry a flat-footed girl. 
Let each man fondly cherish as his, a native pearl ; 
Wear her for aye on your bosom, and you will never repine ; 
In conclusion, mind your business, and be sure /will mind mine', 
Now, if jcu'll kindly retire, I'll get down from this tree, 
For I've been up here all morning, and am tired as I can be." 
We left, Phil, without more ado, "Zrt helle'^ had us all in disgrace, 
And we wonder how she will treat us, when next we meet face to face. 

ESSIE TO HER BROTllEK. 

Dear Chicken : — The party is over — it was a most perfect success. 

And I only wish I had the power, to taithfiiUy express 

The impression it made upon me. To give you a slight idea 

Of how a social gathering is arranged and conducted here : 

My lady bade me " be ready to receive the guests at four," 

So, just at five minutes of it, I knocked at her howJoir door ; 

You should have seen her stare, Chick! [ know she tliought I looked 

well, 
Bui her English reserve and training, would not let her tell. 
I changed my mind on the pink silk, that day, up in the tree, 
And resolved to out-do England's daughters, in primness, iU/uit could be. 
At the very bottom of my trunk (hidden away in disgrace. 
From my puffed and furbelowed dresses), a white muslin had its place. 
Simple as hands could make it, this I resolved to wear; 
I knew that this sudden change would cause a general stare. 
AVell, on it went, this simple dress, with a ribbon belt at the waist. 
And at my neck and wrists I put a ruffle of soft lace ; 
My hair I did ''la Marguerite,^^ and it hung like two coils of gold ; 



18 

All, Chick, I knew I looked pretty, without even beirig told. 

I took some half-blown rose buds, and pinned them into ray hair — 

(" Marshal N^ils" are very becoming to one whose complexion is fair,) 

And I did not put on a jewel, in ear, on tinger, or breast ; 

Chick, in the code of simplicit}^, I could have stood the test — 

My slippers w^ere only thirteens, as la helle Sauvage has ,very small feet, 

And a small foot on English soil, to an Englishman's eyes, is a treat. 

Well, we went into the drawing room, and, in very short time, my dear. 

The guests that had been bidden — the guests from both far and near — 

Were with us. We donH introd^ice, that is not the en regale way — 

Tiie unknown guests of my hostess are my true friends for the day. 

Everyone talks to everyone; but, were you to meet on the morrow, 

A bow to these very same fellows would be to your cost and sorrow. 

The five Adonises were on hand, Sweet McPherson at their head ; 

I never saw men look so foolish, or turn so lobster red, 

As they do when we meet ; I think that afi'air of the tree 

Was about as jolly a thing as ever happened to me ; 

They feel so cheap, you know, to think I heard their talk : 

Just fancy me falling a victim to a stupid English gawk ! 

And, above all, McPherson Langley ! he is the biggest bore, 

And goose, and silly donkey, I ever saw before. 

But I want to talk oi \X\q party — six girls, every one of them fair. 

With the pinkest cheeks, and the wdiitest teeth, and the palest kind ot 

broM-n hair. 
Six felloMs : (five from our house,) and to make the number right. 
My lady had the kindness the young curate to invite. 
AVe played croquet with a calmness that would make an angel fret, 
I'm sure. " How could I stand it ?" I just hated it, you bet ; 
I tossed the balls with a vengeance, I charged on the enemies' field, 
Until they grew more earnest, and seemed less inclined to yield. 
And then came the prosy dinner — McPherson escorted me, 
And 1 made up my mind to bore him, to be slangey as I could be ; 
So, I asked him by way of beginning, " if he had any money to spare ?" 



19 

" If he liad, would lie let I could not ride Lis colt, ' Young Golden 

Hair V " 
He had a spoonful of soup raised at the time to his lips, 
IJe tried not to look astonished, and took three tiny sips. 
Then gave up and said gruftiy, " Miss Bruce, you never must dare. 
As you value j^our soul and body, to mount that colt, ' Golden Hair.' " 
'• Don't dare me," I answered bluntly, or I'll ride her in spite of you ; 
For, if I'm told I must not, that thing, I most surely will doT 
He said, •' Very well ! as /pleased," but the colt was his, lie forhade ; 
He should give tJiis coinmand to his groomX " and we were both of us 

mad. 
And we never spoke another word ; (McPherson glowered, 1 jdaniied 
How my Yankee wit could get, of John Bull, the upper hand.) 
A heap of guests arrived at night, the lawn was a fairy hall. 
With its tent and colored lanterns ; of course /opened the ball. 
You know what a ball is. Chick ! — music and dance, that is all — 
Flirtation and whispered twaddle, is about the whole of a ball. 
And we danced — the night wore on. and 'twas very, very late 
Before the last guest's cari'iage wheels left the Manor gate. 
Chick, / have not gone to hed ; Chick, /'m in my riding dress / 
Do you know what I'm going to do ? I bet, ray brother, you guess. 
Yes, he dared me not to ride ; He, to say to me, " / command !" 
I have no right to his old horse. But, Charlie, I won't stand 
His saying what I shall do ! Good-by ! my last words may be said ; 
Who knows but vicious " Golden Hair " may bring home Essie, dead, 

M'PHERSON TO HIS FRIEND. 

Dear Phil : — Three weeks have passed since your letter came to hand, 

And I'm sorry, dear old fellow, to have had to let it stand 

So long, without seeming reason for such a long delay ; 

But when you hear my excuses, your wonder will pass away. 

I meant to write you next morning — to write to you of all 

That had occurred of interest the night before, at the ball ; 



20 

But, wliat man so often proposes, a liiglier power will eliange, 

Disposing one's calculations, in a way that seems most strange. 

It was late ere tlie party was over, yet we fellows lingered still — 

The smoke from our "/or delfumas'''' the deserted tent did till. 

We laughed and talked of the ball, and somehow when we came 

To mention ''la belle Sauvage," we dwelt upon her name 

With a sort of tender accent; for, Phil, the little sprite 

Had (for some unknown reason) been charmingly gentle that night ; 

Been gentle to all but me\ and, like one that is possessed 

Of a devil, appeared miss Essie, my lady mother's guest. 

She inspired a feeling of anger, and yet, I'd a sense of fear, 

That this grey-eyed imp ot girlliood, was drawing very near 

Some dangerous experience. I led her out to dine — 

A penance, not a plenswpe, yet, I could not well decline. 

I resolved to do the agreeable, sJie resolved the other thing— 

Result,— all my good intentions in a moment's time took wing. 

Before the soup was over, Miss Bruce with a jockey air. 

Bet me — mark you — het me^ she could ride young " Golden Hair." 

I tried to keep down my horror, and (still more) my &\\\^Yii\wQ disgust, 

And, that my replies were courteous, I most sincerely trust ; 

I don't remember inhat I said, I only know it cast 

An utter and perfect silence over our whole repast. 

Well, I thought of this all the evening, thought of it in the tent — 

Thought of Miss Essie's flashing eyes, and wondered if she meant 

To defy my warnings ; and, I resolved to tell the groom 

The earliest thing in the morning, that it would seal his doom 

If ever he let a being, man or woman, young or fair, 

Or ugly or old as Methuselah, mount upon " Golden Hair." 

(So I said not a word to the boys, who had by degrees slipt away ; 

We were all in the land of slumber, before the dawn of day.) 

I woke with a start, the village bell was calling out tor seven ; 

I turned upon my pillow, resolving to sleep till eleven, 

When a thought of my purpose, regarding young "Golden Hair," 



21 

Changed my plan '; I at once arose, and dressed me then and there ; 

I hurried down — the old house was wrapt in slumber yet, 

And I laughed to myself, Phil, thinking, " for once I'll surely get 

The best of " la helle Sauvage ;" I'll stop this one mad prank, 

Her neck shall not be broken, and she'll have me to thank." 

The stable door stood open, the horses were champing their hay ; 

I called out for the groom, Thomas, he came with " Aye, sir, aye." 

I gave my command at once ; you should have seen the surprise 

That came over the face of the fellow ; you should have seen his eyes 

Grow large with utter amazement. " Why, Master, you don't tell me so ; 

IViiss Essie rid oif on ' Golden Hair,' more than an hour ago ; 

She came and bade me side-saddle the mare, she said ' 'twas a bet ' 

That you had made atween you ; that she was af eared to set 

On sucli a skittish young creetur as this 'ere 'Golden Hair.' 

I said all I could to dissuade her, but, Master, I did not dare 

To say 'No' to such as Miss Essie, and, betide, I thought it your will ; 

I was aj'eared I tell you, and am a fearing still." 

There was no time for parley, I bade him saddle " Jane," 

Asked which direction they took? " She went sir, by hillside lane." 

I wanted no more, but galloped away, my heart beating high with fear, 

Dreading to look, dreading to think, of what might soon appear. 

I galloped on ; nothing in sight, all peaceful, calm and fair, 

No reckless Essie within view, on more reckless " Golden Hair." 

On I pressed, looked right and left, a curve in the road, a hill beyond, 

At its foot, in the morning light, the waters of mill-brook pond 

Glistened in the morning snn ; then on my ear fell the din 

Of the Eastern bound train, to the town beyond, coming in, 

Jt turned a sharp curve on its way ; on it came — God have mercy!— 

there, 
With loosened rein, and laughing face, came Essie upon " Golden Hair," 
Hiding along at leisurely pace ; the memory of her young, sweet face. 
As it looked in that moment of peril, Phil, has in my memory forever a 

place. 



22 

The beantifiil, mettlesome little mare, seemed pleased with the dainty 

burden she bore, 
And turned her graceful neck to look at tlie face of her rider once more ; 
But the sharp, shrill whistle strikes on her ear ; 

Her nostrils quiver, her eyes grow wild, and her body trembles in ner- 
vous fear ; 
Another, another shrill resound, till far-away echoes take up the sound — 
One maddening plunge, one wild rebound, 
And, like the morning wind, on rushes " Golden Hair." 
Hooked in speechless terror, wondering does she bear 
Her rider yet, or has she flung her precious burden fair. 
No ; bravely holdiug to the reins, on Essie came, 
I strained my lungs, i called the name 
Of horse and rider — " whoa ! whoa, ' Golden Hair !' " 
" Keep tight hold, Essie, on that cursed mare !" 
She heard my voice, 1 thought that I could trace 
A look of courage on the pinched, white face; 
And, back upon the breeze, Phil, this reply 
Was wafted to my ears, " Give in to ' Golden Hair,' not IP'' 
And, sure enough, friend Phil, the mare began to slack, 
And, as she drew up beside me, Essie remarked, "Mr. Mac, 
I am sorry I took your dare ; — a runaway is not gay — 
Mr. Langley, if you've no objection, I think I shall taint away." 
I had her down from " Golden Hair," in less time than I can speak ; 
She lay in my arms, like a lily, so gentle, and white, and meek; 
Her brown hair all tossed and tumbled, her bonnet gone, (heaven knows 

where,) 
But what woman wants a bonnet with such a wealth of hair ? 
I bathed her white face from the brook, holding her on ni}' breast, 
And I telt in this situation particularly hlessed, 
When the lovely gray eyes opened, and called me to eai-th again, 
By the pretty lips remarking, " I think Ell ride home on ' Jane ;' 
I think I will, for my poor wrist aches like all possessed ; 



23 

AikI you can manage ' Golden Hair' a I'dtle hit tlie best.'' 

Phil, since then she's been a himb ; and, now that the boys are away, 

I snppose I must give np Switzerland, and just resolve to stay, 

And do the agreeable to Essie — her vacation is almost passed — 

And try to make her stay with ns pleasant to the last. 

In three weeks from now she leaves us, and then I'ui coming to town ; 

I shall feel quite like a hero, worthy of much renown. 

For having made myself a martyr, to be kind to this little child, 

(Who is not so bad, after all, Phil, only a trifle wild.) 

Well, my letter ends ; Pll be with you as soon as Miss B. goes away, 

And, for the present. Sir Pliilip, I wish you a very good day. 

FROM ESSIE'S JOURNAL. 
"Well, little, old Journal, my trusty friend, 
Do you know my visit has come to an end ? 
And that L am l)ack in the land I adore (?) 
Monsieur " Johnny Crapaud's" dear, native shoi'c ! 
My visit is over — my fair holiday, 
With the things that loei'e, shall be put away 
Far in the past, that ever seems 
To grow bright and more fair in memory's dreams. 
AVhen I came that day , from that horrible ride, 
I sort of, and kind oi resolved I'd decide 

Kever to take a da.re again ; (I nearly broke my neck that day, 
And, as a general practice, neck breaking does not pay.) 
I resolved to utter fewer words in vulgar parlance called '• slang;" 
But, it life depended on keeping that vow, I'm afiaid I'd have to hang. 
Oh ! when the whistle blew that day, and " Golden Hair" grew wild, 
Every wicked thing I'd ever done since I was a little child. 
Came before me In afttsh; I thought my "bucket would kick," 
And I wondered if I was so had, that liis majesty, " Old Nick," 
Would catch me from wild " Golden Hair," and take me down, to dwell 
With Eurvdice and himself, in his brimstone abode, in — well, 
I won'i name the citv — l)ut I did not care to go; 



24 

I did not like the prospect, I tell you, " not for Joe !" 

Then there came this comfort — I weren't so venj had, 

And the Master, way up yonder, I remembered that He had 

Known our sin and weakness, endured temptation, too ; 

So, I was sure, He'd open the gate and let my little soul through; 

And, in that sweet assurance, my fears all slipped away, 

While my heart asked God " to take me," and my lips began to say — 

"Now I lay me" — softly, (as I do every night,) 

But, while I looked to Providence, you bet 1 held the reins tight! 

Then, lo ! upon me dawned — now. Journal, who do you guess ? 

Why, Mr. McPherson Laugley, in his Knickerbocker dress. 

On his pretty mare, called " Jano," with eager, anxious speed. 

He was hastening toward me ; I was glad to see him, indeed ; 

Somehow he w^as not so ugly, viewed by that morning light. 

And I don't think that man ever was so fair to woman's sight. 

Not Adonis unto Venus, not ^Eneas to the queen 

Called " Dido," with her wild love, looked more beautiful T w^een ; 

He came from death to save me, ah ! life is very sweet — - 

We never know its value till death's dark form we meet ; 

Till we see the arrow quiver, teel that the bended bow 

Is eager to drink our heart's blood, and lay our heads so low ; 

But. I would not have him hioio it — know /w^as glad he'd come ; 

So, I rode tow^ard him madly, with lips both white and dumb, 

Till I heard his voice — ('twas music) cry, " Hold tight, Essie ! Whoa, 

' Golden Hair !' " 
(He might have cried '■' Whoa, Emma!" for all thai mare would care.") 
But "hold tight, Essie," gave me courage, and I clung like all possessed^ 
While my heart beat, oh I so loudly, against my frightened breast ; 
But I answered, in my M-eakness, that / did not mean to let go ! 
And, then, ('twas a marvel,) " Golden Hair" began to slow. 
And grew slower, and still slower, in her eager pace. 
Till Mr. Laugley and Essie Bruce were actually face to face; 
Ot course, like 'A fool i fainted, I was mad, be sure of that ; 



So weak and TirtwjJy^Mw??*?/, just like a regular 'flat.' 

And when I sort of ' came to,' (But before I liad strength to rise 

From a very romantic position, and too weak to open my eyes,) 

I could swear, if it wasiiH wicked that I heard as plain as day, 

McPherson %?[,y^ ''^precious darling!" in the most smoodling way. 

He call Ha hells Sauvage^'' ^^ precious " — call Essie Bruce ^''darling'''' too, 

I wonder the earth did not open, and offer to let me through. 

And then, — well, JouruHl — McPherson, who looks with infinite scorn 

Upon girls, and green me above all, kissed me, as sure as you're born ! 

I suppose I should have been angry, I'm a little afraid I was not ', 

An hour before I'd have slapped his face, and looked as angry and hot 

Asa large, new boiled lobster ; but there I lay, pale and calm 

Asa lily on a May morning, with ni}^ head on his great big arm ; 

But 1 had to come to myself, I opened my eyes and said, 

" Oh, Ml". Mac _you're tired ; I'm sorry my poor head 

Proved so weak a member; thanks for your kindly support, 

I wont faint again, I assure ,you, it's not very pleasant sport." 

He said, " thank heaven it's over?" I replied, " Ah, yes, I survive ;" 

Then we never spoke another word for all the rest of the drive. 

My lady never reproved me, and as for Sir Charles, he said, 

" I was a trump ;" he liked my pluck, So, there was nothing to dread. 

And then I spent three such weeks! McPherson seemed to change; 

And from tliat morning / liked him, and, what is still more strange, 

lie gave up Switzerland's journey, and devoted himself to me] 

What caused all this sudden changing , I can't for the life of me see. 

The days of the three weeks flew on great, wide wings awaj^, 

And before I knew it, Journal, had come the parting day; 

I got up very early, intending to visit the garden below. 

To say good-by to the landscape I had learned to love and know ; 

Then I passed through the rustic garden gate, to the meadow, where the 

dew 
Lingered on the green blades, and " violet eyes" so blue. 
And I wished (a very silly wish,) that every drop was a tear 



2& 

Of regret, from Nature's children, that Essie was leaving here. 

I stooped to gather some blossoms, to take as mementoes, sweet, 

Of the pleasant visit ended, when the sound of coming feet 

Rustled in the grass behind me, and lo, and behold ! there stood 

Mj stalwart friend, McPherson, and he looked " very good," 

(As the Bible hath it.) His strong, blonde, English face 

Seemed full of feeling; and I'm sure that I could trace 

A sadder tone in his full voice, as he said, " I'm glad you're here!" 

" Yes ? well, I came to say g:ood-bye, sir, to this meadow, grown so dear 

To ^la helle Saumig^ your guest ; I have spent such happy hours 

Out here among the clover and the nodding blue-eyed flowers ; 

And I'm glad, sir, you are here, I can say good-bye to you 

Out here, very much better than at the house I'll do. 

Mr. McPherson Langley, if I've ever been hateful or rude 

(And I can be Ijoth,, I know, sir, if it happens to suit my mood ;) 

Won't you please forgive me? you know I'm a perfect child ; 

And I'm motherless, Mr. Langley, and I've grown up ever so wild ; 

When you first called me ' la helle Snuvage,^ I hated you with a will, 

But now,'! ask as 2ifavor^ that yo^i will think of me still 

As ' la petite squaw,'' ' la helle Sativagre,'' as just wild little Essie Bruce, 

With whom, after many a squabble, you've raised a perpetual truce. 

And I hope and trust, sir, that some day we shall meet again, 

And be assured, when ever it is, you'll find that you retain 

My honest and true friendship ; and I hope, sir, ere long to henr 

That you've found the lady of your heart, some one, just as near 

Your idea of perfection, as this earth can bestow ; 

But its breakfast time — bye-bye ! ior jjlease sir, I inustgoP 

He was bending over the rustic gate, his eyes looking into mine, 

Mine that were brimming over with very salty brine, 

(Salty because I tasted one,) and then — oh, Journal — don't tell, 

For its aioful to act on impulse, but I did, and — and — well ! 

It was a motherly impulse, and he looked so very sad, 

That I left a hiss on his forehead, and then took to my heels like "mad." 



2T 

Journal, I never once looked back, I did not see Mac again : 

For to my lady's amazement lie took the noonday train 

To London ; "important business called him at once to town." 

Business ! his business I I'll bet that nothing took him down 

But to send on board the steamer, such a basket of fruit and flowers — 

That, I forgot to be sea-sick for actually several hours. 

I'm back in the old dull routine, and I feel myself acting queer, 

I go dreaming and mooning about, in a way I'd have scorned last year ; 

Dreaming of great, blonde whiskers, (that I used so much to despise,) 

Of an English voire, and above them all a pair of dark-brown eyes ; 

And I've actually ^/Y'.56'€(/ some flowers. Giiardy says, "I'm growing 

reflned," 
Perhaps I'm in— (heaven forbid it) in love, or out of my mind. 

M'PHEKSON TO HIS FRIEND. 

Dear Philip : — I've no need to tell you of Sir Hugh's death, last week. 
The Times reported the sad event, so, of that I won't stop to speak. 
Well, we obedient relations, like a party of black crows, 
(Made me think of some scene from Dickens, — in our sombre mourning 

clothes,) 
Followed the old man's body, to its last resting place ; 
And then, I seeing no reason to stay, turned my steps to retrace. 
For, I saw no need of my going back, to hear the will 
Of my matei'nal uncle, who never seemed to thrill 
With an overflow of aflection ; in tact, sad as it may be. 
Sir Hugh and T, had never been known on one point to agree. 
When a boy, I was always treading on some of his gouty ways. 
And he did not seem to admire the course of m}^ manhood days. 
Then there were hosts of cousins, who had humored each caprice. 
So what did I want to hear, what he'd left each nephew and niece ? 
So I was rather astonished, when my uncle's legal man 
Begged "I'd return to the castle " with the rest of the mourning clan ; 
Indeed, he thought " I had hetter,'''' so, of course, what else could I do 1 



And we gathered in the parlor, looking as cold and blue, 
As if from the bit of paper the lawyer held in his hand, 
We were to be perpetually blessed or irrevocably damned. 
Ye Gods ! 'twas like a thunder clap ! some legacies, (very small) 
Were left to others — to me, Phil, was given everything — all\ 
Titles, estates, rank, fortune, on this condition, my friend, 
" That I should marry a loife^'' Phil, " hef ore four weeks should endV^ 
After the will had been read to my disappointed kin, 
(A. will right and tight as a rivet) I tell you I felt thin, 
Over the stern proviso. Once I told my uncle, that I 
Had forsworn women forever, and a bachelor, should die. 
He never said pro or con, but hoarded it up in his head, 
To make me eat with a relish, my words, after he was dead. 
Only four weeks to choose a partner for my life- 
Only four weeks to court a girl, and get her for a wife ! 
I could not keep the secret, and the girl I asked, would know 
That if she did not have me. I'd have to let all sco. 
And in the sweet bye-and-bye, when differences should be 
Occasionally discussed between my chosen one and me. 
She (after the manner of her sex,) would not hesitate to tell 
Me o'er again, the story that I should know so vvell ; 
Tell me, " I owed my title, my home, my wealth, my land, 
To her, wearing my ring on her finger, to her giving me her hand." 
Then, I thought over every woman known to me, high or low. 
And to each, " sliall I ask her ?" My soul cried out loudly " jVo !" 
Did I say to every woman ? Tliere was one with soft brown hair. 
And wonderful star-like eyes that kept coming before me there ; 
A little childish creature, with a saucy, Trballcieim face. 
By Jove ! Phil, there stood Essie ! and she seemed to fill the place. 
Better than Lady Betty, better than Florence Bryne 
Whose wealth is rumored fabulous, (she's considered a diamond mine 
By fortune hunting fellows,) and she would give her hand 
To one called Mr. Mac Langley, I've been given to understand. 



29 

But what's her wealth to the bright eyes, of a little girl I know? 

And what jewel does her casket hold, that my darling can't bestow ? 

What pearl so line and priceless, as the perfect teeth that show 

Their whiteness in rare contrast to the red lips' ruby glow ? 

What diamond in the wide world can sparkle like the wit 

Of the dashing, little woman, when her ladyship sees fit ? 

I could string her into a chain of jewels, worth far more. 

Than ever mortal connoisseur had gazed upon before. 

Ah ! 1, M'ho had hated all women, was suddenly brought to see. 

That my only anguish now, was, lest one woman cared not for me. 

r resolved to make the venture, and ifi did not succeed, 

Why, I'd have to go in pell-mell, and do the venturesome deed. 

Of blinding my eyes, and taking the first one tliat came to hand ; 

So I gave my uncle's lawyer to thoroughly understand 

That I accepted the arrangement, and, without any further delay, 

Would haste to ask the lady, to speed the wedding day. 

I stopped at Leighcroft Manor, to tell my parents the news, 

To tell them of the bride I sought, and ask them not to refuse 

Their blessing if I won her. Imagine ! 'twas not a surprise, 

My Lady began to Img me, with tears in her dear old eyes. 

To tell me, " she hoped it would he, she had learned to love Essie, so, 

And she did not think her little girl would say to her hig hotj, ' no!' " 

My lord had to wipe his glasses, said, " all he had to say, 

Was, when little sunshine came again, it would be a happy day." 

So I crossed the Channel, feeling most mighty queer. 

Feeling queerer and queerer, the nearer I drew near. 

First, I went to the guardian, he looked like one perplexed, 

As if he very much wondered what was coming next ; 

He said, " to tell me the truth, he had very little to say 

On this, or any matter. Miss Bruce woukl have her oion way; 

And that, \i he, her guardian, pronounced himself content 

With me, as Miss Bruce's lover. Dr. Bruce would give his consent." 

So we went to the school together. Miss Bruce was summoned in, 



30 

I shall never forget the saucy nod, as though she eared not a j>/?i 

Tor her beloved guardian, still /»r,yar less for me, 

And had not quite decided who we had come to see. 

She nodded to her guardian, gave me her finger tips. 

But lier pink cheeks grew pinker when I pressed them to my lips ; 

She snatched the white hand from me, saying, " Mr. Mac, do you know 

Kissing saints' fingers, Qiot si7mers\ is in Paris ' all the go V " 

(Shmgey, wee, small Essie !) I bent, lest guardy should hear. 

And whispered under my breath, into her sea-shell ear, 

"Kissing a sinner's forehead seems in England now the style, 

So, why should not sinners' fingers be kissed in France, once in a while ?" 

Then guardy found it convenient to take himself away ; 

And once alone, I hastened to say what I had to say ; 

I don't know how I did it — when I thought I had it to do, 

I pondered over the puzzle, wondering how in the deuce, I'd get through. 

Bat by George ! it was not so hard to say, " I love you my dear !" 

When the object of my affection was so very, very near ; 

Not hard to tell my story, when Essie's lovely eyes 

Were looking kindly on me, in childish, pleased surprise. 

She listened earnestly to me, a shadow — on her sweet face — 

Of thought, I had never seen before, adding new charm and grace ; 

Her head drooped low when 1 asked her "to be my own for life" — - 

Drooped lower still, when I called her "my precious little wife !" 

Then I took her in my arms, and she raised her pretty head, 

Phil, these were the very words that my betrothed said : 

"I've gotj>lenti/ of money ^ so, I don't marry you for that ; 

And as for your new title, 1 care no more than a cat ! 

But you've got to marry some one, I very plainly see. 

And, I suppose, take it all in all, you'd do as well with me, 

As you would with Lady Flora, (or lady anything,) 

For this I know your lordship, there is not one could bring 

In her dower, the gift /carry, and Mac I'll tell ^ow. true, 

I've tried all my might to hate you, but I love you, yes I do ! 



31 

Mac, I'll try to be better, but you innst be better still, 

And if you are, old fellow, I think we can climb the hill 

Of life very well logether ; and when we are old and gray, 

We may be glad we promised to be man and wife to-day. 

I am glad my lady loves me, and Sir Charles is a darling, dear, 

And I'd ling them both, I tell yon, if they were only here." 

But, 1 was a jealous lover, I wanted the " hugs " myself, 

Phil, 1 think 1 shall be slangey, Avhen I get the pretty elf 

For. a positive, life-long companion ; we marry in two weeks' time, 

So, come on, old fellow, and hear our wedding bells chime. 

Essie* is blithe as a bird ; I've promised the child, next fall 

If the gods are propitious, we will go and make a call. 

On the land of the " Star Spangled Banner ;" I wish you could hear 

Essie tell, 
The surprise she expects to create, it would pay your liearing well ; 
She says they'll expect to see lier, majestic, stately and wise. 
And when they find ow\^ Essie has come back, their surprise 
AVill exceed anything ever written, for she never means to be 
Anything but " la helle Saumige " to the whole wide world and me. 
I'm happy ; yes, so happy, that earth seems to hold no cloud ; 
I'm satisfied beyond measure, and very, very proud 
Of my ]>lithe and bonny darling, and Phil, how in the deuce. 
Could I ever think ^^ Squaw'''' or '■''Saumige'''' in the least like Essie 

Bruce ? 

{FEOM THE " times:') 

At the Legation on Tuesday last, were married, McPherson Langley, 

Lord Crighton, of Castle Wood, Thorn Hill and River Way, 

To Esther Carlton Bruce, only daughter of Dr. Gates 

Bruce, of New York City, in the United States 

Of America. The groom, Lord Crighton, stands 

High as a scholarly gentleman, and ever warmest praise commands. 

The bride, Miss Bruce, is beautiful, witty, accomplished, refined ; 



32 



Beloved by all who know her, for both charms of heart and mind. 

Owing to recent bereavement, in the family of my lord, 

And Miss Brace's being motherless, the wedding occurred abroad ; 

And was, we understand, a strictly private affair — 

None but his lordship's parents and a friend or two being there. 

A¥e wish for my lord and lady, all the blessings life can bestow ; 

May peace and joy be around them, wherever their footsteps go. 






I IBRARY OF CONGRESS 

015 785 937 7 





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